Chapter 3 – A Serene Inquisition

Though some distance apart, The Doctor, Nyssa and Tegan spoke simultaneously.

"What?!"

Adric moaned. His head hurt, he knew that much. What he didn't know was where he was, or what exactly had happened to him. The answer to the first quandary could, of course, easily be rectified by opening his eyes, but Adric wasn't sure he wanted to attempt that yet. His skull reverberated with a pounding that was regular and insistent, and he was certain that increasing his sensory perception at this moment in time would only serve to exacerbate that situation. Exploration was, he felt, best left to his other senses then… he could feel that he was on a bed, but the hardness of the mattress against his back, the unfamiliar ambient smells and the lack of bright artificial light penetrating through his eyelids indicated that he wasn't on board the TARDIS. His brow furrowed as he struggled to remember the events of the last few hours: Serenity…. that was it, they were on Serenity…. he remembered the tranquillity of the Gardens, eating some particularly nice tree-fruit, the way the moonlight caught the edge of Nyssa's hair, and then…

Adric gasped, his eyes snapping open. Pain sliced through his head, resonating with the anguish he felt as memories returned in a rush. "Nyssa!" he breathed. She had been hurt, and the last thing he remembered was standing next to the Doctor in the midst of a hostile crowd… the screeching, knife-wielding woman… and then - blackness.

He quickly sat up, fighting against the unrelenting pain in his skull that urged him back towards the sweet release of unconsciousness. Wherever his friends were, they were in danger and he had to help them. And that meant getting out of here.

Even as he quickly surveyed his surroundings Adric felt his headache lessen slightly, and silently gave thanks for his Alzarian heritage. He was alone, in a small, sparsely furnished stone-walled room, dimly lit by flickering candlelight. Noting the lack of windows, Adric quickly came to the conclusion that the heavily built wooden door was his only means of escape, however as he gingerly got out of bed and winced at the renewed surge of pain to his head, the heavy handle creaked and slowly began to turn…

"A simple question, Herald," the Prime Consul said nonchalantly. "How do you plead?"

The Doctor stood, open-mouthed, and stared at the Consuls before him in wide-eyed incredulity.

"What?… What?!"

Varden scowled and motioned towards Proctor Morovan, who activated the stun cuffs once more. The Doctor grimaced in pain as energy surged through every nerve pathway in his body.

"For the last time – your plea!"

The Time Lord sighed, his face glistening in sweat. "Well, that's rather difficult to say really…" The Prime Consul motioned again, but this time the Doctor merely winced, and remained somehow unsubdued.

"I don't recall being responsible for the untimely death of so many people, and although I have lived a long and – ahem - fairly eventful life, something like that would surely stand out, wouldn't you say?" The Proctor activated the cuffs once more, but this time the Doctor registered no more than a pause, and continued his train of thought.

"Of course, I can't account for what I may do in the future, but 45 billion people? It seems, well, just so… so out of character…"

Varden shot a baleful glance at Proctor Morovan, who simply held up the stun cuff control and shrugged his shoulders. The Doctor, momentarily distracted from his contemplations, registered the silent exchange.

"Ah yes, you're wondering about these, I presume?" He held his bound wrists in the air. "Apologies, my physiology tends to be, shall we say, rather 'adaptable', and your repeated attempts to electrocute me have resulted in my nervous system shutting down and re-routing around that particular area." The Doctor wiggled his fingers and gave his audience a broad grin. "Now, I wonder if you would be so kind as to explain the details of exactly what I am supposed to have done?"

Tegan looked from Suren to Nyssa – the face of the former registered unmitigated remorse, the latter's abject shock.

"So this 'Lady' you all keep going on about – you're telling me you think that's Nyssa?!" Suren, now reluctantly returned to a kneeling position (after much coaxing from Tegan), looked at the floor and nodded.

Tegan turned to Nyssa, who was still clasping the sheet to her chest and staring at the trembling medic in horror. "And Nyssa, I take it this is news to you?"

The Trakenite tore her eyes from Suren's kneeling form and stared incredulously at her friend.

"But….how?" Nyssa looked from Tegan back to the grovelling Suren in bewilderment. "I'm not… Suren, I have no idea how this has come about, but I am simply the daughter of a Consul, no more. How can you possibly think I'm some form of… deity?"

"I…I don't understand, my Lady. Is this a test?" Suren hesitantly raised his eyes to meet Nyssa's, his face clouded with uncertainty and confusion.

Tegan sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"Just humour us, Suren. I think you'd better start from the beginning…"

Adric backed away from the door, hurriedly contemplating his options. Escape? Attack? His throbbing head reminded him he wasn't really in any shape for either, so he sat back onto the bed and anxiously awaited his fate.

Fate duly entered the room in the form of a young and slightly built woman, clothed in the flowing white robes of the Order, and carrying a tray furnished with bread and a steaming hot bowl of broth. She looked at the young boy in surprise, apparently not expecting him to be as fully conscious as he was. She nodded, regaining her composure almost instantaneously.

"Good evening. My name is Novin. Would you care for some refreshment?"

Adric, led by his stomach as usual, was instantly disarmed. "Yes please!" The young woman stepped back and watched in bemused silence as he sat down and enthusiastically tore into the bread. He looked up momentarily.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he mumbled, cheeks bulging. Realisation hit him as she took breath to answer, and he pointed at her in disbelief.

"Wait a minute – it's you! The woman in the crowd!" He gulped – "With the knife?"

Novin smiled. "Please, do not be alarmed. I meant – I mean you no harm. I was merely the diversion that enabled your rescue."

Adric nearly choked on his soup. "Rescue?!" He rubbed the tender lump on the back of his head – "You call that a rescue? That was… assault!"

"I am truly sorry for your pain, however you must understand that time was of the essence, and reluctantly we decided that rendering you unconscious was the most effective way of retrieving you from the situation." She looked at the floor and clasped her hands together nervously. "Please forgive us, we acted as we must."

Adric looked at her in puzzlement. "We? Who's we? And where's the Doctor? Was he 'rescued' too?"

"I am afraid we were unable to retrieve the Herald. The crowd and security arrangements were much greater than we had planned for. But do not fear, we have an agent at the Inquisition who will act on his – and our - behalf."

"The Herald? Who's that?"

Novin sighed and sat down on the bed next to the young boy, smiling patiently.

"Finish your soup, and I'll explain everything…."

Varden sat back in his chair, sighing in irritation. "All right Doctor, if you wish to persist in this charade, I'll play along." Without removing his gaze from the Doctor, he lazily waved a hand in the direction of the Procardinal, who was stood at the side of the chamber, surrounded by several lower members of the Order. "Jonaris, perhaps you could do the honours?"

The cleric puffed out his substantial chest in self importance, gave the Prime Consul a cursory nod, and stepped forward, clearing his throat before allowing his full voice to resonate around the chamber.

"Centuries ago, the people of Serenity were privileged enough to share in the tranquillity of the Traken Union, living lives of harmony bathed in the light of the Source, under the benevolent gaze of the Keeper. Our ancestors basked in the glow of what they considered to be the perfect society – the benefits of scientific advancement blended seamlessly with spiritual depth and commitment. However for all their technological prowess they were completely unprepared for the calamitous events that occurred during the short reign of the Keeper now known as 'Luvic the Last'."

The Doctor allowed himself a brief and poignant smile at the thought of Luvic, who had considered himself so unworthy, but had found a hidden strength at the final moment. Varden noted this and raised an eyebrow, as the Procardinal carried on.

"Three hundred years ago, the old Keeper approached the time of his Dissolution. The people of Serenity kept a silent vigil, as was customary in those days, but were surprised at the unprecedented violence and turmoil of his passing. In the end, however, peace was restored as the new Keeper became one with the Source." Jonaris' melodious voice took on a darker tone as he continued.

"This peace, however, was not to last. It was only a handful of days into the reign of Luvic when our astronomers began to note changes of a cataclysmic nature: stars seemed to literally disappear from the heavens as they watched, and the clear midday sky began to darken ominously. The Consuls of the time, alarmed by these dreadful portents, rushed to this very Sanctum to consult the Keeper."

The Procardinal raised his bejewelled hand to indicate the conspicuously empty throne within the inner chamber. "The Keeper answered their call, as he had done so often in the past here and on the many other worlds of the Union. But this time was different. Keeper Luvic could only manifest as a pale, ghostly image, barely able to substantiate himself, weak and drained. In a pained voice he spoke of murder, of the coming Darkness, of infiltration, and of all-pervading evil."

Jonaris turned his accusing stare towards the Doctor.

"Then he spoke of a man, and a boy… and of a blue box."

Novin had recounted much the same history to her young companion as he eagerly finished off his meal. He looked at her quizzically.

"But…. but that's me, and the Doctor!"

Novin inclined her head in agreement.

"But what have we got to do with this 'Herald' person?"

The young acolyte spoke in soothing tones, which somehow began to make Adric's eyes feel heavy. Putting his tray aside, he laid back onto the bed as she continued.

"Adric, don't you see? Think of it from a different perspective…the people of the Traken Union lived in peace and harmony for thousands upon thousands of years. And then one day, offworlders arrive, a man and a boy possessed of strange technology that allows them to travel between times and dimensions, a technology far in advance of our own. A matter of days later, the Keeper dies, and the Dissolution is more terrible and violent than any recounted before. A new Keeper is confirmed, but his reign is but a few days old before…before the Union, and the very Source itself is consumed in Darkness." Novin bowed her head and looked to the floor. "The coincidence, for some, was too much to deny."

Adric lay back, closing his eyes to try to clear the grogginess encroaching upon his thoughts. "The Doctor…." he murmured, "The Doctor is the Herald…"

Nyssa laid back in her bed, rubbing her temples, as Tegan stared at Suren in disbelief.

"So you're saying they think the Doctor caused all this? Caused the death of all those people?!"

The medic tore his eyes from Nyssa to answer her incensed companion. "The Herald came, and then… the world ended," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"But," Tegan stuttered, "It wasn't the Doctor, it was – "

"Tegan."

The Australian woman looked over to her friend, who had opened her eyes and was shaking her head faintly in warning. "Don't. Not until we know the facts."

"The causal link is there for all to see," said Suren. "The Herald is the Harbinger of Darkness. He came, and within days our people were forced to watch as, one by one, the worlds of the Union were obliterated… millions, billions of souls wiped out in the space of a few moments."

Nyssa, momentarily overcome with emotion, looked at the kneeling Serenite with tear-filled eyes. Suren was recounting ancient history he had learned at his father's knee, with a detachment that could only result from the passage of the centuries. He had never known a time when the worlds or the people he spoke of lived and breathed. From Nyssa's perspective however, she had been witness to these events a matter of weeks ago, and the memory was still painfully fresh. What to Suren were distant ancestors, long dead people from worlds he had never known in his own lifetime, were to Nyssa a much loved family and home that had all too recently been brutally ripped from her life. She hadn't begun to mourn their loss. She didn't even know where to start.

Tegan, meanwhile, continued her questioning. "But that doesn't explain about this 'Lady', or her connection to Nyssa, does it?"

Suren looked towards Nyssa, still confused as to the nature of the discussion but unwilling to challenge the divinity before him. He sighed and reluctantly continued.

"The power of the Source was waning. As the Darkness advanced, the Keeper had fewer and fewer minds to draw on. As he called on the last vestiges of his strength, he told the Serenite Consuls of a missing child - that the daughter of Tremas had ascended with a mysterious being, and must be found at all costs… that millions of lives depended on it." He stared at Nyssa with awe-struck reverence. "He said you would return. And now, in answer to our centuries of prayers, you are here." He closed his eyes and bowed his head once more in reverence. "And I am your humble servant."

Tegan sat heavily on the edge of Nyssa's bed and looked at the bewildered Trakenite with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. A sardonic smile played across her lips.

"Well, 'my Lady'…what do you suggest we do now?!"

"But that's preposterous!" blustered the Doctor, unconsciously backing away slowly from the stone-faced dignitaries arranged before him. His colour rose as his mind leapt to the logical conclusion offered by the chain of events described by the Procardinal. "Adric and I came to Traken at the behest of the old Keeper, and we left the Union in peace and on good terms - you can't seriously be suggesting that we – that I – am responsible for the destruction of the entire Empire?!" He looked over his shoulder in irritated surprise when his gradual backward motion was suddenly interrupted as he bumped into two armed Fosters.

Prime Consul Varden sat up suddenly. "So you do not deny that you and the Boy were present on Traken immediately before the coming of the Darkness? That you were involved in the events surrounding the Keeper's Dissolution?"

"No, I do not!" said the Doctor heatedly. "But the fact of my presence there at that time by no means indicates my guilt, or indeed any particular involvement in the events that followed!"

Varden raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yes really! Adric and I had departed from Traken long before the 'Darkness', as you put it, even began!"

"Well, you were hardly likely to stick around to experience your handiwork in action, were you, Herald?" Jonaris spat the final word in distaste.

The Prime Consul held up his hand to silence the enflamed cleric. "Enough Jonaris! This is an Inquisition, and we are in danger of losing our objectivity here." He turned back to the bound Time Lord with a pacifying smile. "The Doctor claims he left Traken in peace, and we have no evidence to contradict his claim."

"But the Testimony of Luvic…!" spluttered Jonaris, before once again being silenced by Varden's raised hand.

"We all know the Testimony, Procardinal. The ancient texts have been passed down faithfully through the centuries. But here we have an eyewitness to those events, someone whose memory has not, one assumes, been so dimmed by the passage of the years." He turned to the Doctor once more. "I wonder, would you be good enough to enlighten us as to what you and the Boy... Adric... did after you left the Union of Traken?"

Novin looked up from where she sat, tenderly stroking the sleeping Adric's forehead, as the door to the small chamber silently opened. She smiled as a grey-swathed member of the Order entered, his face obscured by the cowl of his robes.

"The drugs have taken hold already? That was quicker than anticipated."

Novin nodded her affirmation.

"He is fully subdued, Brother." She smiled. "Perhaps the speed at which he devoured his supper had something to do with it."

The newcomer seemed to consider this for a moment, then slowly bowed his head. "Very well, Sister Novin. Proceed with the conditioning as planned. Keep me informed as to your progress." With that, he turned and swept out of the chamber.

Novin sighed and turned back to the sleeping boy, resuming the slow, rhythmic stroking of her fingertips across his forehead. She spoke in a low, almost hypnotic voice.

"Adric? Can you hear me? Listen carefully Adric, we have a lot of work to do…"

The clamour echoing around the stone walls of the Sanctum descended into whispers as the Prime Consul sat forward purposefully in his chair and questioned the bound Time Lord before him.

"'Earth'? This is not a system I am familiar with."

"Really?" The Doctor's face betrayed his surprise. "Earth? Terra? Sol III?" The faces arranged in front of him showed not the slightest hint of recognition. The Doctor closed his eyes and silently cursed the peoples of the universe for their complete inability to pick a planetary name and stick to it. "Erm – Antykhon? Avallion? Dhakan? Ravolox?" The Doctor sighed. "It doesn't matter. We only stayed there briefly, well, long enough for Tegan to stumble on board anyway, before we left for Logopolis."

A series of frantic, whispered conversations broke out around the room, which were almost immediately silenced by the raised hand of Varden, who calmly continued his questioning.

"Tegan? This is one of the females in your party?"

"Ah, yes – the shorter-haired of the two. The other is –"

"And Logopolis of course, we have knowledge of. Their mathematical achievements were legendary within the Union." Varden steepled his fingers together and peered at the Doctor intently. "And what was your business there?"

The Doctor took a deep breath and looked to the high-vaulted ceiling, sensing that this, as usual, was about to become complicated.

"My Lady, no! You must listen to me!" Suren pleaded as Nyssa painfully forced herself upright. "Your treatment is not yet complete, and the bone-knitting procedure…"

Nyssa cut him off with an irritated sigh. "I know full well about the complexities of the process thank you, Suren - it was after all perfected on Traken - but unfortunately we don't have time to worry about such niceties. We must find the Doctor – I have a feeling he's in terrible danger… uhhhnnn!" Clasping the linen sheet to her chest she cried out in pain as she swung her bare legs over the side of the bed. She clutched her side and paused to catch her breath. "Tegan, help me, please!"

Tegan immediately rushed to Nyssa's side and helped the Traken woman stand, a concerned look on her face. "What does he mean about 'the bone-knitting procedure'? Are you going to be ok?"

"It's nothing to worry about, Tegan. On Traken we developed a way of mending broken bones using a complex combination of sonic waves and cascaded particle beams – the emitter within the treatment arch targets the fractures and causes the skeletal cells to oscillate, and then realign in a more stable structure. The only problem is – "

"The treatment isn't finished, so your ribs aren't fully healed yet?" Tegan guessed, not fully understanding Nyssa's explanation but keen to show that she had at least grasped some of the situation.

Suren stepped in, arms folded in an attempt at defiance. "Not only that, but the procedure significantly weakens the bones in question, and also the surrounding skeletal structure, for some hours afterwards. This is not a problem of course, if the patient does as they are told and stays in bed…" He folded his arms and fixed Nyssa with a look of pure exasperation.

Tegan rolled her eyes. "Well you've changed your tune – you wouldn't even look at her a minute ago!" Suren looked at his other 'patient' in surprised annoyance, but Tegan turned to address her friend before he could retaliate. "Listen Nyssa, are you sure you're up to this? He's probably right you know, and to be honest, if you're having weird premonitions about the Doctor being in some kind of danger then bed is probably the best place for you, don't you think?"

"It is not a 'weird premonition', Tegan!" Nyssa retorted, raising her hand to her forehead in frustration, her eyes brimming with tears. She sagged back wearily against the bed. "I'm sorry, I really am, I don't know what's the matter with me. I just can't seem to clear my head at all, and it feels to be getting worse… it's like there's a constant noise in the back of my mind, but the more I try to make out what it is, the louder and more jumbled it gets…" she frowned in frustration.

Tegan shot Suren a concerned look. "After effects of the stasis beam?"

The Serenite was already consulting the nearest medicom terminal. "It could be, I suppose, but it's not something I've come across before, and auditory hallucinations certainly aren't listed in the database as a side-effect of the weaponry." He turned to Nyssa, pleading: "My Lady, I implore you to stay here and finish your treatment. I can run some more tests – "

"NO!" Nyssa pushed herself upright once more, leaning on Tegan for support. "We have to help him, Tegan. Even if you don't trust my instincts and so called 'auditory hallucinations', there's the fact that those Fosters were called away to some kind of trouble near the prison block. And if I know the Doctor…"

"He's right in the middle of it," Tegan conceded. "I'll get your clothes."

"We were simply trying to repair the TARDIS's chameleon circuit." The Doctor sighed, eyes raised to the ceiling of the crowded Sanctum. "I had hoped that the Logopolitans could use their skills in block transfer computation to correct a long-standing fault."

Prime Consul Varden sat forward in his chair. "And was your business concluded successfully?"

"No. Unfortunately it was not."

"Have you returned to Logopolis since your last visit, to complete the repair?"

The Doctor threw Varden a distrustful look, and replied quietly: "You obviously know that to be impossible, Prime Consul."

Varden sat back, a smile playing across his thin lips. "Ah, that is correct, Doctor. Forgive me, I forgot for a moment that Logopolis shared much the same fate as our beloved Union." His face became serious once more. "It seems, Doctor, that you somehow leave a trail of destruction in your wake. Do you continue to deny any kind of responsibility?"

The Time Lord raised his chin defiantly. "I do. Everything I did on Traken, every action I took on Logopolis, was carried out with the best possible of intentions." He looked at the floor and closed his eyes, a pained expression on his apparently youthful face, his blond hair trailing from his temples. "I tried with every fibre of my being to prevent what happened… it is my eternal regret that I failed."

Procardinal Jonaris could contain himself no longer, and allowed a noisy grunt of disgust and derision escape him. He rounded on the group of seated Consuls.

"Just exactly how long are you going to let this farce continue, Varden?" he blustered, his face crimson with barely restrained rage. "Must we suffer another moment of this man's false contrition and outright lies? He has admitted his presence on Traken, and his ownership of the blue box condemns him without question!" The cleric turned and pointed accusingly at the Doctor. "The Herald is before you, Consuls – we must act before it is too late!"

"If not you, Doctor, then who?"

The Prime Consul's soft tone was in marked contrast to the Procardinal's thundering tirade, but it held an unmistakeably greater degree of gravitas and power. The Doctor locked eyes with Varden, trying to read what was going on in the depths of the Serenite leader's intellect. His expression seemed pained, somehow.

"If not you, then WHO?"

He was out of options. The Doctor closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

"The Master."

A dull thud echoed around the walls of the cramped, dimly lit chamber as the grey-robed acolyte's fist smacked into the side of an ancient, flickering monitor. His lips curled into a snarl as the image on the screen descended even further into static, but the aged equipment was saved from a further beating by the timely bleep of a comlink. Grabbing the communicator in one swift motion, he raised it to his lips.

"I'm here." He spoke in a calm, measured tone that belied the violent outburst only a few moments before. The comlink crackled with static, causing the acolyte to close his eyes in a visible effort to calm himself. He adjusted a control and tried again.

"I'm here. Report."

The buzzing resolved itself into a broken, barely decipherable voice. "-mood of the Inquisition has changed, Brother.…. ardinal has attacked….. Herald is on the defensive." The disembodied voice was again lost in static, before clearing once more: "-w do you want us to proceed?"

The acolyte stared at the monitor, deep in thought.

"Brother?"

"Take no action until I direct otherwise. The Boy is in our care, and the Herald is in no immediate danger. Remain in position. Confirm."

"-firmed Brother. Standing by."

The acolyte turned to the monitor and resumed his vigil. His fist hammered once more into the side of the equipment, and the snow resolved to reveal Adric, laid back on the bed, his eyes half-open. The Alzarian's boyish face glistened with sweat as Novin leaned over him, tenderly stroking his forehead. The grey-robed man peered intently at the screen, before reaching forward to adjust the volume of the audio feed. Novin's soothing tones crackled through the speakers.

"Adric… you must realise just how important you are to the future of this world…"

It took several pain-filled minutes for Tegan to help Nyssa back into her velvet trouser suit, while Suren paced up and down on the other side of an opaque privacy screen, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend the events of the past few hours. He, along with every other Serenite in the colony, had long dreamt of the return of the Lady, but he was struggling to reconcile the supernaturally triumphant manifestation of the ethereal goddess he had always pictured in his mind with the seemingly young and fragile girl painfully struggling into her clothes behind the screen. Where were the portents? Where was the awe-inspiring, glorious reappearance of a divine being? Emerging from some darkened bushes, and subsequently being shot by her own people, was not something that Suren had ever noticed in the ancient texts when the return of the Goddess was prophesised.

He went over to the medicom and rechecked the DNA results one more time.

"Suren?"

Tegan's voice came from behind the screen, a little breathless from her exertions. "Suren, are you there?"

"Yes, my lady." He replied, without looking up from the data screen. There it was. Indisputable. 100% Trakenite. He furrowed his brow, deep in thought.

Tegan chuckled, emerging from the impromptu dressing room. "You don't have to bow and scrape to me Suren, I'm not a goddess."

The medic frowned, his eyes still fixed on the flickering screen. "No. But you are Handmaiden to the Lady, are you not? And therefore deserving of respect, surely?" He looked up at her, uncertain.

Tegan thought for a moment, a bemused expression on her face. Whilst a bit put out at being labelled a mere servant, she resigned herself with the thought that at least the 'position' would give her a lot more respect than she could ever expect as an air stewardess. Shrugging her shoulders, she laughed: "Yeah, whatever you say mate! Now the question is, how the heck are we going to get to the Doctor if there's a riot going on outside? Plus, won't there be guards?"

Suren looked back at the screen once more, then closed his eyes, his mind in turmoil. Was this some sort of a test? Was his loyalty to the Lady being questioned? He couldn't deny the facts in front of him – he was, after all, a scientist, and whatever his religious expectations were, the empirical evidence before him was overwhelming. The girl behind the screen was not merely Trakenite. On further analysis there were also certain markers in her DNA that…. well, if the data was correct then the implications were staggering. Opening his eyes, he downloaded the results to a hand reader and breathed deeply, his loyalties decided. He turned towards Tegan, momentarily starting as his eyes unexpectedly met Nyssa's, who, now fully dressed, had joined her companion.

He bowed his head low before his Goddess. "If you will permit me, my Lady, I have an idea."

Varden paced slowly back and forth in front of the Doctor, his plush velvet robes trailing on the stone floor as he stalked across the Sanctum. He addressed the Time Lord without raising his eyes from the floor.

"This 'Master' you speak of, he is of your species?"

The Doctor rubbed his eyes wearily, wondering how much longer his ordeal was going to continue. "He is a Time Lord, yes."

"And you claim he had some involvement in the events in question?" The Doctor nodded his head in silent confirmation. Varden looked up. "How so?"

With a heavy sigh, The Doctor began to explain. "My species have a long but finite lifespan, and The Master had all but reached the end of his. Seeking to prolong his existence, he searched the Universe for a power source potent enough to extend his life. He found it in the Union, and saw the Keeper's approaching Dissolution as an opportunity to gain control of the Source. It was only through the combined efforts of myself, Consul Tremas and others that he was stopped."

The Doctor's statement was halted by a loud expression of derision from the direction of Procardinal Jonaris. "Do you seriously expect us to believe – "

"Yes, I DO!" The Doctor snapped in irritation, cutting the cleric short. He looked towards the Prime Consul. "If I may be permitted to continue?" Varden nodded his assent. The Doctor shot a hostile look at Jonaris, then took a deep breath and continued.

"I had thought that our defeat of the Master on Traken would have meant his final demise. However my assumption was wrong, as it seems that the Master had somehow survived by using the remnants of the Keeper's power to take over the body of Consul Tremas and escape. This became apparent when he followed us to Earth, and then to Logopolis, where he tried to take control by disrupting the Logopolitan calculations. Regrettably, this generated the wave of entropy that destroyed the Traken Union."

The Prime Consul considered this for a moment, and then looked at the Doctor gravely. "And did you make any attempt to contain this entropy? To halt the destruction you claim was caused by The Master?"

"Of course I did," replied the Doctor, indignantly. "The entire cosmos was at risk, and I did everything within my power to halt the decay, very nearly losing my life in the process. I managed to stabilise the last remaining CVE and safeguard the rest of the universe, but it was too late…" He looked at the floor and shook his head, his expression bitterly remorseful. "All those people. I was just too late…."

Novin tenderly wiped the brow of the young boy her care, all the while continuing her half-whispered sermon. Adric lay still, semi-conscious, his eyes glazed and unfocussed. He seemed oblivious to Novin's quiet, persistent pleading.

"You must help us Adric… the people of this world are depending on you…you have the power to free us from centuries of oppression. Can you imagine what it's like to live in fear - to exist without the benefit of high technology or the light of scientific discovery? To spend your life under the shackles of religious persecution, forbidden from research, enquiry or free thought?" She resumed tracing her fingers across the boy's forehead in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

"Our ancestors were lost in the Darkness after the Union was wiped out. People will cling to any hope in their darkest hour, and the growth of the cult of the Lady brought with it a belief that Traken had been a victim of its own arrogance – that pride in the Union's technologically-engineered peace had brought about its downfall."

Adric stirred slightly, an incoherent murmur escaping from his dry lips. Novin raised a glass to his mouth, gently supporting his head while he sipped the cool liquid inside.

"That is why you are here, Adric. It is your destiny to bring logic and reason back to Serenity…. only you can break the chains that bind us…."

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

Tegan looked doubtfully at Suren as she helped Nyssa don the flowing white robes of the Order that she herself was also clothed in. The medic had sourced the outfits from an overflowing locker in the back of the medical centre; Tegan had managed to refrain from asking what had happened to the previous owners, but was dubious as to the practicalities of Suren's plan to get them to the Doctor.

Suren looked up from his hand reader. "I don't see why not, my Lady. We will simply approach the Sanctum as if you are escorting me on the official business of the Order. I will speak with the Fosters as we discussed, and our entry will be secured."

"And you're sure the Doctor is there?" Nyssa asked, whilst struggling to adjust her belt.

The medic bowed his head. "I am certain, Lady. The citizens I spoke to just now in the courtyard had seen two strangely clad males being taken in that direction, flanked by a number of Fosters. Apparently they attracted quite a crowd, and there was some commotion."

"The Doctor has a tendency to do that," said Tegan, wryly. "But aren't we going to look a bit suspicious ourselves? Nyssa can hardly walk for a start!" She indicated her friend, who was still clutching her side, obviously in some pain.

Suren crossed the room and opened a wall-mounted medical cabinet, extracted some items and returned to where the two women stood. He held up a silver gun-shaped object, and inserted a vial of clear liquid into a chamber in the handle. He turned to Nyssa, hands shaking nervously. "If you will permit me, Lady?" Nyssa nodded, and bared her neck, looking at Tegan.

"Hypospray," she explained as Suren placed the object against her neck and operated the trigger. She visibly relaxed and straightened as the painkillers quickly entered her bloodstream, dulling the soreness in her ribs.

"I know," said Tegan defensively, "I've seen 'Star Trek'! Hey, can I have a look at that for a minute?"

Suren placed the hypospray in her outstretched hand. "Of course, my Lady. May I ask why?"

Tegan hefted the instrument and smiled at her companions.

"Just a little thing I like to call: 'Plan B'."

Prime Consul Varden halted his pacing and resumed his seat amongst the Serenite Consuls. "'Too late' indeed, Doctor. I cannot speak for you, but I find those two small words inadequate to the task of describing the difference between 45 billion people being alive one minute, and dead the next." He steepled his fingers and frowned deeply. "I am also struggling with two additional words: 'Time' and 'Lord'."

The Doctor looked at the ceiling in exasperation. He had known this was coming. "I can't go back," he said carefully, trying to control the increasing anger in his voice. He looked directly at Varden. "I can't go back. I cannot save them."

A confused clamour arose from the Serenites arranged around the Sanctum, and the Procardinal took the opportunity to confront the captive Doctor once more, the colour rising in his face. "'Can't'? Or 'won't'? You are a Time Lord, are you not? Your blue box enables you to travel in time as well as space, we are told, so how can you possibly refuse?!"

The Doctor spoke rapidly, through gritted teeth. "It isn't a matter of choice, Procardinal. I cannot go back and save the people of the Union, however much I would like to, because it is simply not possible. The Laws of Time will not allow it."

"The 'Laws of Time'?" sneered Jonaris, his voice rising above the commotion. "As decreed by whom?"

"As decreed by the High Council of Gallifrey, based upon the scientific principles of causality and temporal dynamics. We Time Lords are forbidden to interfere with history."

The rotund cleric positively simmered with rage. "Are you seriously telling us, Herald, that this is the only reason you will not lift a finger to save 45 billion innocent men, women and children? Because of a rule passed by a species so arrogant to think they can dictate to the rest of the universe?"

"It is not just a rule!" The Doctor rounded on the Procardinal. "It is an expression of scientific fact. Look, some things are simply fixed, crystallised in the web of time, and you cannot go back and change them, because Time will find a way to ensure that those events happen regardless. What you're asking is impossible!"

"How can you be certain when you have not even tried?!"

The Doctor sighed, deflated. "I know, because we are here, now, and Traken is still dead."

Nyssa, Suren and Tegan hurried across the courtyard towards the Sanctum, the girls' heads now shrouded by the hoods of their robes. The crowds were beginning to be forcibly dispersed by a number of armed Fosters, but there were still a significant number of citizens milling around the heavy doors. A group of Fosters were concentrated there, barring the way.

Tegan grabbed Suren's arm and halted him. "We'll never get through there!"

The Serenite thought for a moment, before smiling grimly. "Don't worry, my Lady. I know of another entrance. The postern gate should be less well guarded. This way!" He indicated a path to the side of the Sanctum, and the trio hurried into the shadows.

In his cramped chamber, the grey-robed acolyte started as his comlink crackled once more.

"Brother? … -ease respond."

"I'm here. Report."

The comlink buzzed with static once more, before clearing momentarily. "-ecoming hostile, Brother. We are in position, awaiting your signal, but we can't delay much longer. Please advise."

The acolyte adjusted a few controls on the haphazardly wired panel in front of him before responding. The screen changed from the elevated view of Novin and Adric to a viewpoint from some way above and behind a row of seated, ornately dressed figures arranged in front of a tall, handcuffed prisoner. He activated the comlink.

"Stand by."

The Doctor closed his eyes in frustration as shouts echoed off the stone walls around him. Why was this always so hard to explain? He was sure Blinovitch hadn't had this problem. Clearing his throat, he bellowed in order to be heard above the hubbub. "LISTEN!"

All eyes turned towards the bound Time Lord, expectantly. "Alright. Say I do go back, right now, as a direct result of this Inquisition, and somehow manage to perform the impossible, defy the Laws of Time, prove every temporal theory ever formulated wrong, and stop the Master from destroying Traken. What then?"

Jonaris stepped forward. "Then the billions of souls lost to the Union would be restored. And you, Herald, would be redeemed."

The Doctor smiled smugly. "My point exactly, my dear Procardinal. The Union would still exist, and you and I would not be stood here having this debate. Agreed?" Jonaris nodded suspiciously.

The Doctor looked at the puzzled faces arranged before him.

"So who, exactly, would ask me to go back?"

Tegan smiled at Suren as they each dragged a recumbent Foster into a patch of shrubbery a short distance from the Sanctum's postern gate.

"There you go, mate!" she said, as they unceremoniously dumped their burdens under cover. "You can't beat a good 'Plan B'!" She hefted the hypospray (now containing a powerful sedative) like a pistol, and set off purposefully back to the gate, where Nyssa was keeping watch. Suren looked down at the unconscious guards, thinking, not for the first time that night, that he was completely out of his depth.

Nyssa looked anxiously about her as she waited for Tegan and Suren to return from concealing the unconscious Fosters. Despite the past few months of travelling with the Doctor, she was still not at peace with the amount of violence that always seemed to be involved whenever he got himself embroiled in something. Though she could sometimes see the necessity in the way the Time Lord (and increasingly, it seemed, his companions) went about things, it still went against every fibre of her Trakenite being.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, a sudden pain slicing through her thoughts. The noise in her head seemed to have subsided somewhat since they had left the Infirmary – or was it that she was just becoming used to it? – but for a moment then it had felt as if someone had shouted, clearly and distinctly, through the background swell. Nyssa shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. A nasty suspicion was beginning to form in her mind as to what was happening to her. She needed to find the Doctor.

She looked up to find Tegan and Suren making their way back towards her position by the gate. Tegan was smiling, seemingly very satisfied with herself.

"Right then!" the air hostess said, hand on hip, hypospray at the ready. "Let's get this show on the road!" With that, she strode determinedly through the gate and into the tunnel beyond.

Suren looked at Nyssa, bemused. "What show?" he asked. Nyssa shrugged, similarly perplexed, and followed the Australian into the tunnel. Suren tagged along behind, shaking his head.

Prime Consul Varden stood and raised his hands. Within seconds the echoing din within the Sanctum had quietened to a few stray whispers. He waited a few seconds more before speaking into the absolute silence.

"Esteemed Consuls, revered Clergy, respected Citizens. Enough is enough. Dawn is fast approaching, and we are required to come to a resolution. I do not think, however hard we try, that we will solve the complexities of temporal mechanics in the short time we are allotted. We must, therefore, concentrate our minds on what we have before us."

Varden once more resumed his slow pacing, hands clasped firmly behind his back, a look of intense concentration on his face. He stopped before the Subject of the Inquisition. The Doctor had been on his feet for a number of hours, which was beginning to test even his Gallifreyan endurance levels. The Prime Consul looked deep into his eyes for several seconds, as if trying to fathom the secrets contained in the alien mind before him. Whatever he saw, it did not seem to be the answer he was looking for. He resumed his pacing.

"We have long relied on our ancient and sacred texts to furnish us with the history behind what we term 'The Darkness'. The loss of the Keeper, the Source and the worlds of the Union, and the Herald's crucial role in that loss, are spelled out within those pages, and as such have been considered immutable. But here we have an alternative perspective." The Prime Consul's words brought hushed gasps from the assembly, but he continued nonetheless.

Varden raised his arm to indicate the Doctor. "This man - whether you name him 'Herald', or 'Doctor' - this temporal wanderer was witness to those events. His ownership of the blue box is irrefutable proof of that, as is his intimate knowledge of the events in question, knowledge that no other offworlder could possibly possess." He turned and continued his slow, measured stride.

"The Doctor claims that, rather than initiating the destruction, he in fact tried to prevent it. He claims that the Union was victim to some kind of 'entropic decay', an unfortunate, nay tragic by-product of the evil machinations of a being known as 'The Master'. He tells us he gave everything to save the universe, and that save it he did, albeit too late for our beloved Union. He claims, time-traveller though he is, that he cannot go back and put this right. Fantastic claims indeed, by anyone's standard." Varden sat down in his ornately carved chair.

"But I am inclined to believe him."

The stunned silence that followed seemed never ending. The Doctor hung his head and slumped, visibly relieved. The assembled Consuls and dignitaries exchanged looks of astonishment.

The hush was eventually broken, in explosive fashion, by Procardinal Jonaris voicing a rage of almost volcanic proportions.

"WHAT?!" he bellowed."Varden, have you taken leave of your senses?! This is blasphemy of the highest order, and I will not stand by and –"

"BE SILENT, CLERIC!" Varden's shout sounded like a thunderclap around the stone chamber. Jonaris was stunned into silence, and the outburst took even the Doctor by surprise.

"I have not finished."

The Serenite leader rose, and moved slowly across the polished floor to stand and face the Doctor.

"Someone is responsible for the devastation of a noble and peaceful Union. Someone must be held accountable. You tell me that you are a Time Lord, that this 'Master' is a Time Lord. You tell me that you come from a race who have the technology to master Time, and yet they deliberately do nothing with that mastery, but wilfully sit back and watch the Universe slide into death, destruction and anarchy. This leads us to only one possible conclusion: that the people of the Traken Union have suffered greatly, beyond measure in fact, at the hands of the Time Lords. We have a Time Lord standing here before us. Someone must be held accountable." He moved till he was standing nose to nose with the Doctor, his gaze unflinching.

"And that someone is you, Doctor."

He spoke in hushed tones, a phrase he had uttered many times before, each more painful than the last.

"I hereby sentence you to death. Effective immediately."